From the Edge
by The Fountian Pen
Summary: The day Clark Kent walked into Queen Consolidated for an interview with Oliver Queen, was the day Felicity's carefully constructed house of cards came tumbling down. SmallvilleXover
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _Arrow_ it is without prejudice property of The CW, Berlanti Productions, DC Entertainment, Warner Bros. Television, Warner Bros. Television Distribution, Greg Berlanti, Marc Guggenheim, Andrew Kreisberg, and David Nutter. I do not own _Smallville; _it is without prejudice property of The WB (2001–06), The CW (2006–11), Jerry Siegel, Joe Shuster, _DC Comics, _Alfred Gough, Miles Millar_, Tollin/Robbins Productions Warner Bros. Television._ All comic characters are property of DC Comics not mine. I own nothing I merely borrowing a group of fascinating characters. I will return them relatively unscathed…well I return them anyway. No money is made from this and no infringement of copyright is intended. This will be removed if contacted. This story is not for monetary gain but purely for enjoyment purposes. I claim no ownership with exception to my own original characters and ideas. All recognizable characters are not mine, merely my own creations. I own nothing I merely borrowing a group of fascinating characters. I will return them relatively unscathed…well I return them anyway. No money is made from this and no infringement of copyright is intended. This will be removed if contacted. This story is not for monetary gain but purely for enjoyment purposes. I claim no ownership with exception to my own original characters and ideas. So anything, you recognize…not mine.

A/N: Set AU Smallville season five. No Oliver Queen and so on. In the Arrow verse, this story begins right after the return from the island in season two and AU from there. Also, I am taking liberties with all future comic book characters that may appear.

Summary: The day Clark Kent walked into Queen Consolidated for an interview with Oliver Queen, was the day Felicity's carefully constructed house of cards came tumbling down.

From the Edge

Chapter One:

_She'd had that dream again._

_Of cold steel, disinfectant, nylon straps pulled tight across her limbs and chest holding her flat against the cold unyielding metal of the exam table, and the bright burn of industrial grade fluorescent bulbs as they fried her retinas and the light whisper of a husky voice in her ear. A voice she knew all too well. One that had long made her skin crawl. Belonging to the man that had whisked her and her father away moments before the FBI safe house had blown like a grenade, sending a cloud of red-hot steel and flaming wood flying like deadly shrapnel that would have torn Chloe and Gabe Sullivan to bloody ribbons. _

_Lex Luthor._

_He had saved her that day._

_Not because she was nothing more than a teenage girl that had gotten in over her head, or-God forbid-out of the goodness of his heart. Chloe was under no naïve delusions that Lex Luthor had a conscience let alone a heart. As sociopathic and egomaniacal, as she believed Lex to be, he was by no means stupid (in fact-much to her chagrin-, it was just the opposite; he was a strategist with a borderline genius IQ). Despite his smooth words and endless platitudes of thanks, she knew without a doubt that Lex held no misconceptions about her. Lex was well aware of her looks of suspicion and disparagement; she had made no effort to hide it and everyone from the guards to the prosecutor knew how Chloe felt about Lex Luthor. In the months following Lionel Luthor's conviction and her return to Smallville she had watched as Luthor's obsession with Clark Kent's secret only grew. If Chloe hadn't seen the lascivious looks, the bald billionaire directed at Lana Lang, she would have thought Lex to be half in love with the strapping farm boy. As Lex made it a habit to frequent their local hang out at least once a week. Despite Clark's blatant suspicion of his motives, Lex continued to interject himself into every aspect of his life uncaring of the 'slight' stalker like behavior. It had put Clark on edge, well more so than he already was when it came to his secret. Lex's first step had been befriending Lana Lang, the perfect pastel princess that had held Clark's heart in an iron grip since the sandbox. Lana had fallen prey to his charm heedless of both Chloe and Clark's warnings. The beauty had been convinced that Lex was a good man beneath the stain of his family name. At the risk of alienating her friend, Chloe had backed off. Clark hadn't been that bright…blinded by his love he had continued to try to make her see reason. Despite that fact that his love had a boyfriend-in a teacher nonetheless- that could easily play the role of protector; he was never far from reach. Lex had exalted in throwing that in her face more than once as her already battered heart splintered beneath his vicious words. Those cold blue eyes that gazed unflinchingly into hers had been gleaming in triumph and it had stoked the already simmering fire of her temper into a blazing conflagration. That was when her research began._

_Chloe's first act of war had been breeching the mansions security, for a billionaire with limitless resources the incompetence of his security was ludicrous; she had easily made it into the study and cracked the passcode to his laptop- using the date of the first meteor shower had been telling as it was predictable-within minutes. A new record for her, and she hadn't resisted the urge to fist pump in pride. Ten minutes later, she was slipping out the servant's entrance and into the night. _

_No one would find out Clark's secret if she had anything to say about it, especially not a megalomaniacal billionaire with rampant daddy issues, who would not hesitate to exploit a teenager he had once called friend. Before she allowed that happen, Chloe would first bring Lex's worth crashing down around his ears by whatever means necessary. With a few keystrokes, she could and would make him a pauper see what he could do without his billions. Under normal circumstances she never would consider the lengths she was willing to go to, but Chloe's love for Clark Kent was stronger than her conscience or fear of Lex's retribution. So patiently, she waited, hunkered down in her bed in the cracker box apartment she shared with her father-that they had been forced to move into when Luthor Corp had fired her father and blackballed his name-studying every keystroke, data log, and website waiting to for pay dirt. _

_Sure, she had found evidence of a case of embezzlement…that… okay she should have reported, but well it tickled her. After all what was a million dollars between employer and employee? Illegal, yes…immoral?…definitely, Clark would give her his disapproving face, but did she care? Yeah, not really. Every cent that was siphoned off was one less dollar Lex could use to fund his plots and that was just fine with Chloe, and Abigale Fisher, a low-level executive, had a sick child and parents to care for. The funds were not funding a lavish lifestyle or month long vacations in Antigua, so much as keeping them solvent. Not that Lex would care, but Chloe had, but she also had a heart, so she let her fingers do the walking and…poof the money trail was gone. However, the evidence of insider trading she had helpfully and anonymously passed along to the FEDS. _

_It was night before graduation, when Lex had finally revealed the depths of depravity that he hid behind that charming façade and smoldering smile. Finally, proof of what Chloe had known all along that beneath the sheep's clothing was a bloodthirsty wolf lurking within waiting to pounce on its prey. But even she hadn't been prepared for the pure wickedness that she would uncover. _

_Chloe had been alone in her apartment, when she had located the live stream video feed. Pulling up the window, she had barely been able to stifle a scream of terror. Thunderstruck that even Lex could be capable of something so horrendous. Strapped tightly to an unpadded metal table, thick nylon restrains stretching across the nude chest and limbs of a man not much older than herself. The angle of the camera, allowed her to almost look square into the glassy intoxicated brown eyes of Lex's victim. Clustered along the sides of the table, was at least five men and women clad in surgical garb, some preparing syringes with brilliant shimmering liquids of green and red as others organized what looked to be medical implements. _

_There she sat her back against the headboard of her bed, hands clapped to her mouth in horror. Tears surged down her face, unstoppable, as watched the man writhe in agony, despite the drugs that had been pumped into his system. His head flailed uselessly from side to side in desperate search for escape or rescue. But the restraint held true and rescue never came. The man could not even scream, due to the intubation tube down his throat, but Chloe could hear the silent screams echoing in her mind. She should have closed the laptop and tried to purge her mind of the images and methodical actions of the team of doctors hovering over the boy._

_The window had named him as Patient 643Az; Lex had made sure to strip his victim of everything. His name, dignity, and freedom. Lex had taken everything from that young man and she had no doubt that he was exalting in that fact in his study, as he watched the proceedings with rapt attention. However, there was one thing that Lex couldn't take from his victim, her support. That curly haired boy may have thought he was alone, but she was with him every step of the way. It wasn't much, but she had been unable to trace the feed, as it was feed through a proxy and was being bounced around the globe, before she finally lost the trail somewhere in Beijing. There was nothing she could do, except forward a recording of the feed to her contact at Metro P.D. Although Chloe doubted they would find anything. Lex had covered his bases, and she hated him for it. But she sat there for every excruciating moment, until the feed finally went dark. Chloe had tossed aside her laptop and barely made it into the small half-bath before falling to her knees and retching up her hasty dinner, of coffee and ramen noodles; by four in the morning she had fallen into bed and sobbed herself into an exhausted sleep. _

_That morning she had tried to pull Clark aside to tell him of her discovery, but she had never been able to get him alone in the mob of students, parents, and faculty. Then all hell had broken lose, a meteor shower was bound for Smallville and martial law was in full effect as the National guard and Army lead the evacuations. Evacuations that had come too late. After saving Clark from meteorite poisoning in Lex's secret lair, the bald billionaire had found Chloe before she could make her escape and he had abducted her and took her to the Kawatchee caves. Where, thanks to alien technology, she had hitched a ride to the artic with Clark. _

_After all was said and done, Clark had dropped her off in a small, artic hospital that, Chloe was sure was accessible only by dog sled, and had speed off to save the day. But not before pressing a kiss to her forehead, and gazing at her with something akin to awe. That was where Lex Luthor found her twenty hours later, sitting up on her gurney glowering poisonously at him. He grinned spitefully in return. _

_Chloe had known the moment they were away from prying eyes, Lex would pounce. So when she was bodily carried onto his privet jet, after her latest bid for escape, by a hulking mass of muscle she had not been at all surprised when she was thrown onto the bench seat and felt the bite of a needle on her neck. _

_Through hazy eyes, she could see Lex, dressed to the nines in Armani coming to crouch in front of her. Weakly she tried to bite at the hand he extended to brush her hair from her face. He snickered mockingly and flicked her nose as if she were nothing more than an adorable harmless kitten._

_When she awoke, on the freezing steel table pure unbridled fear raced through her veins. Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears as gazed up into the burning bulbs overhead. To her left a shadow moved into her line of view. Flinching when the figure drug a finger lightly down her cheek._

"_Oh my Chloe. I thought you were smarter than this." He whispered his hot breath wafted across her skin, and her stomach clenched in revulsion. She tried to jerk her head to the side, but a cold plastic strap held her head tightly in place. Lex snickered and tapped a pale index finger against her lips. This time, driven by anger, she sunk her teeth deeply into his flesh. The bald billionaire howled in agony. Chloe gaged as warm blood trickled down her throat. With a snarl used his free hand to smack her brutally across the face. Her jaw fell open, releasing the wounded digit, pain exploding across her cheekbone and stars burst across her vision._

"_You'll pay for this." She ground out, roughly. Her voice hoarse from what she assumed was lack of use. Suddenly his lithe shoulders eclipsed the spotlight, his nose nearly grazing hers. His eyes twinkled down at her victoriously and whispered smoothly. "If only that were true Miss. Sullivan."_

_Angry and terrified she surged and wrenched against her bindings, wanting nothing more than to wind her hands around his throat and wring his neck. The bindings held tight, and he grinned down at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Chloe snapped her teeth rabidly at her abductor, her pearly whites just missing his retreating nose. Lex tisked lightly as he stepped out of her view. Barely managing to muffle her the whimper of pain as her eyes were once again exposed to the glaring florescent bulbs. _

"_You never could behave, could you Chloe? Always had to snoop into things that weren't your concern. I will admit it was charming for a time. Then you crossed a line. All in your quest to protect a boy who doesn't love you. Whom we both know has a secret, despite his numerous protests. A boy who always has and always will chose Lana Lang over you. My father was right about only one thing, love destroys. And Clark certainly destroyed you, Miss. Sullivan. So tell me Chloe, are you willing to suffer to protect his secret? Is he really worth it?"_

_Chloe glared defiantly up toward the ceiling through a sea of tears her fingers curling, nails biting into her palms. _

"_Always. He was always be worth it, if you knew anything about love…if you were capable of feeling it at all; you wouldn't ask me that question. It's why, if, Clark did have as secret he would never trust you with it." Her voice cracked, brokenly. As she told Clark mere hours before, she would die to protect his secret. Chloe's love for Clark Kent was not the only factor in her silence. The powers Clark possessed were amazing. At only eighteen, he had saved so many lives, including hers. The moment he had pulled her from being buried alive, she had known-despite only suspecting he was different-Clark Kent could change the world. He could be a hero. And for Chloe that was enough. By keeping her silence hundreds maybe even thousands more might be saved._

_When he spoke, his voice was stiff and scornful. "We shall see if the first battery of tests loosens that acerbic tongue of your, Miss. Sullivan."_

_Fear pulsed in her veins as she heard the soft shuffle of his four thousand dollar Italian shoes on the metal staircase as he left her. Masked faces came into view, hunching over the table in surgical garb. _

_Then all she could do was scream._

"Fel-i-city!"

"What!" with a cry of surprise Felicity Smoak snapped back to reality. Jumping in her seat and hissing when her knee struck the underside of her glass desk. Rubbing absently at her knee she turned her eyes on the man standing at the foot of her desk. Clad in a perfectly pressed gray suit, he regarded her from beneath a creased brow, blue eyes peering at her in concern.

"Oh, Oliver. Sorry I must have drifted off there." She fidgeted awkwardly rolling forward to tuck her legs beneath her desk.

Oliver was unconvinced. "You sure? You look kinda pale."

Felicity resolutely refused to meet his eyes, and forced a smile to her lips.

She could practically feel the disgruntled (insulted, well because he may be a bit dense but he wasn't stupid) frown and she didn't even have to look at him to know he had aneurism face. (Yes that was a Hawaii Five-O reference, she made no apologies Steve McGarrett was hot)

Needing something to do with her hands, still not meeting his worried gaze, she reached for the slim silver laptop that Harry Weston-from HR- had asked her to work her magic on. Again. Flipping open the top and powering it up, she hoped Oliver would take the hint and head into his office to go over those briefings she'd been poking at him all week to read. He didn't.

Peachy.

Of all the days for him to notice something was off, it just had to be today. Okay so Oliver was actually pretty decent about picking up on her moods, if they weren't board line sarcastic or hostile, even worse she couldn't simply write off her disquiet off as simple guy trouble. After all Felicity didn't have the time (or the energy) to flirt properly let alone date and juggle a boyfriend between 'Oliver Queen CEO' and 'Oliver Queen the broody vigilante, so there was no way they would believe that…hell even she wouldn't, which was a whole other kind of sad. Seriously what was it with her and brooding men with hero complexes? It was as if she was the mother ship sending out a homing beckon calling her broody slightly damaged babies home. Felicity had hoped she had left that particular talent in Smallville, let Lana or God-forgive her Lois shell out their signature brand of love and cuddles. (Or in Lois' case an Army brat mentality and biting wit, if nothing else it would certainly shock Clark from his default broodiness, even if he graduated up to sulky and irritated it would be a vast improvement.)

What she gathered from her weekly digging Lois Lane was still residing in Smallville living in Lana's old apartment over the Talon, and working at the Planet of all places. Right alongside Clark Kent. They were partners, bickering over coffee, scrambling to reach deadlines over greasy Chinese food, and wading shoulder deep into the criminal underworld of Metropolis. Together. From what she could gather, it seemed Lois had filled the role she had vacated. Just like she hoped she would, but it had still cut her deeply. As much as Felicity had thought herself prepared for, the two people who loved her most moved on with their lives. Apparently, the dreams of Chloe Sullivan had also become Lois'. Somehow, in the seven years since she had left her life behind, Lois had achieved every dream and goal Felicity had set for herself. Two years ago, when she had seen the first byline for Lois Lane and Clark Kent it had nearly destroyed her. When she had been a teenager, she had been so sure of what her future held. Then Felicity discovered her best friend and the boy she had been in love with since she was thirteen, was in fact an alien. It had a tendency to change things. Even then, somehow, she had been able to add juggling Clark's secret seamlessly into her everyday schedule. It had not influenced her dreams of the Tiffany lamps (that graced every desk of the main bullpen of the Planet) and Pulitzers, if anything they had grown. Not that it mattered anymore. Chloe Sullivan was her past, the person she had once been and had been left behind in the warehouse that turned her meticulously planned life on its ear.

Once she had spent her nights in Kent barn, surrounded by the familiar sent of hay and motor oil, ash she helped her big dumb alien crack Smallville's latest mystery. Other times, on her bad days, Felicity would bury her head in Clark's chest, crying out her heartaches or simply allowing the familiar intoxicating scent of hay, flannel, and a hint of worn leather (from his work gloves, that he didn't truly need, because invulnerable) and let the world melt away. On the rare days when there was no meteor-mutant running amok through town she and Clark would sit on the porch swing, sipping lemonade while she mostly listened to him lament his tragic love for Lana. Back then, she hated when Lana, was brought up in the moments where all she wanted was to enjoy some quality time with her best friend. Now Felicity would gladly sit through another mope session, and cherish it.

For years her life after MIT had been holed up alone in her too large townhouse with a pint of mint chip, hacking into the Luthor Corp mainframe in search of level 33.1 (the Frankenstein's lab that had destroyed Chloe and so many others) to pass on to Courtney. Until Oliver Queen had barged into her life, with a bullet riddled laptop and an offal cover story. When he had shown up bleeding in the backseat of her Mini clad in blood soaked leathers, her world had once again spun out of her control. When she had entered the lair, she had wanted to turn right back around and go back to the boring life she created for herself. As much as she missed a life-playing guru to heroes, Felicity couldn't bare having to leave behind another life when her life eventually careened out of control.

She had lost too much. Then Walter was kidnapped and she told herself joining team Arrow was only temporary. When after months Walter was rescued and back with his family, she had tried to walk away.

And failed miserably.

With Oliver and Dig, she could feel Chloe reemerging from the cell she had crammed her into so long ago. Slowly Felicity Smoak began to rediscover Chloe Sullivan and for the first time in years, she had felt like a whole person.

Feeling the familiar burn of tears nipping at the back of her eyes and the hot flush of rage sizzling through her veins, Felicity shook her head sharply in effort to clear her head. She couldn't afford to stumble around the sharp eagle eyes of Oliver and Dig. They of all people would see the shadows of fear, pain, and past raging in her eyes and it was something she could never explain to them.

They had their secrets she had hers. Something's were just too painful to be spoken of, and in her case, some were too dangerous. The last thing she would do was drag the two people that had brought fire and passion back to her life, into the dark shark infested seas of her past. If only she knew that fate had other plans.

Felicity could feel the weight of his gaze, the skin of her arms broke out in goose bumps as a trail of heat followed his eyes nearly making her shiver. To distract herself she idly drummed her bright yellow polished nails against the hard plastic of the computer as she waited for it to boot up.

Seconds ticked silently by as she awaited the welcome screen, but Oliver's eyes never wavered. With a sigh, she glanced over the rim of her glasses and nearly groaned. Standing legs braced shoulder width apart, arms crossed over his broad muscular chest, and lips pulled into an unamused frown proved he was not about to leave well enough alone. That was his stubborn face. An expression she was particularly well acquainted with. It was practically his default beside angry face that is. It was not one of her favorites, but it was markedly better than his angry face. Angry face meant he was about to go all 'Grr' on some criminal butt. While it was always deserved it meant no sleep for Felicity, and sadly it wouldn't be sexy fun time keep her up until dawn but algorithms and data mining programs.

With a sigh she sat back in her chair, crossing her legs letting her pump dangle from her toes as she nervously bounced her foot. "I had trouble sleeping. No big deal. It happens sometimes."

_Whenever she thought of home,_ she added silently.

Felicity shrugged her shoulders slightly, but instead of satisfying the CEO by day vigilante by night it made his blue eyes darken with worry. Diggle, who had just arrived carrying her favorite white ceramic coffee mug with a waving little green alien on the front, gave her a look of concern coming to a halt a few steps from her desk. Looking between its two occupants worriedly. He and Oliver shared a silent look, that had her gritting her teeth in frustration. Now she knew why Lana always hated when she and Clark would hold silent conversations. It was a pain in the tukhus.

"Did something happen?" his voice was deepened to that of the Arrow. Normally Felicity would have rolled her eyes, because if she said yes Dig would have to wrestle him to the floor or render him unconscious to him to keep him from turning on his heel and stalking out of the building bound for the foundry and his leathers. It was sweet, and so very reminiscent of Clark that it warmed her heart, if not a tad misguided.

Felicity tensed slightly at the question, something that did not go unnoticed by Oliver, and she fought the urge to worry her thumbnail with her teeth before she spoke in a slightly strained voice. "No, I've had them for years. So no, no need to riddle anyone with point objects. Now I have to try to salvage Harry's computer-I keep telling him there is nothing free about internet porn, not that he listens… from what I've found on here the last time he has a disturbing addiction to cosplay. Which really isn't _soooo_ odd, as mildly disturbing. Still not that was the worst thing I've ever found on a computer. That would have to be my Econ TA's penchant for recording himself doing naked _Zumba_. Guh," Felicity shivered in disgust, her coral painted lips pulling into an unattractive line, "that is still seared into my brai…"

"Felicity." The slightly disgusted (yeah she could totally relate) and slightly irritated look that said he really didn't need to know about her TA's nudist tendencies or the fetishes of his employees. Felicity cringed at the mental image of Roger doing Whisks with his equally nude female partner (who Felicity really hoped was a girlfriend and not a family member like she suspected, that was just twelve different kinds of revolting). Something's could never be unseen.

"Right, sorry. You do not want to know about Roger, neither did I to be honest. I mean I'm not a shallow girl, I don't need a perfectly sculpted body…I mean I appreciate it…what heterosexual female wouldn't? Well you would know I imagine." She waved a dismissive hand at him.

What she said didn't register until she watched her boss' eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, but when what she said finally registered in her brain, Felicity winced comically. Dig snickered as he strode forward placing her ceramic mug on the edge of her desk, within arm reach, and turning his head to look between his two friends with twinkling eyes. Oliver sighed and she flinched, rubbing a nervous hand over her forehead. Her mouth once again, started to flap before her brain had time to react. "Not that I've noticed your body, or that your into looking at guys…not with all the woman you parade around…not that I'm calling you a slut…but you do get around I mean Helena, Detective Hall, then Laurel again…really I don't know how you find the time. Oh God, what is wrong with me! Please someone stop me…huh?"

Dig stepped forward finally ending her misery, by clamping a large callused palm over her mouth. "Fank ou." She muttered, her voice still muffled by his hand. Oy why did she try to fix things? She knew well enough by now that her rambles only made things worse. But for the life of her, she could not _shut her mouth_!

"Felicity, breathe and reel it back in. I think you jumped the rails awhile back." Dig grinned brightly at her, letting his hand drop from her lips, and tossing a gleeful look toward Oliver. Flushing to her dark roots, she refused to look at her broody boss. No doubt, he was giving her that look of supreme surprise and more than a little confusion. Clapping her hands to her eyes in mortification, she moaned pitifully wishing the floor would open up and swallow her, if only to put her out of her misery.

"Felicity" Oliver spoke up, an amused lilt to his voice, that had her peaking up at him through her fingers. Despite for the slight up tic of his mouth his face remained impassive. She was more than a little grateful. Clearing her throat, she summoned up that old screw'em mentality and squared her shoulders. Unfortunately, her still vivid blush nullified her efforts. Still despite her lingering embarrassment, she pasted on a bland face of professionalism. She could find a rock to crawl under later, when they weren't running behind schedule.

"Right, sorry I'm going to go ahead and blame all that," she spun the fingers of her right hand in a circle. "on lack of sleep. My verbal diarrhea only gets worse without at least eight hours. Which sucks since I'm lucky to get four. Now as I meant to say before my brain blew a fuse, I have work and so do you. Marcus Whilsbee will be here in twenty minutes for your interview."

When Oliver's forehead creased in confusion, Felicity stared at him mystified. Which quickly exploded into anger at his uncomprehending "Who?"

Abruptly all thoughts of her verbal gaff fled, her eyes narrowed dangerously and her dangling foot fell to the floor with a loud clap of her heeled pump. As hard as she worked at a job he chose to-foist upon her- and that she loathed, with a burning passion he couldn't even be bothered to listen when she spoke.

"Seriously? Oliver, do _not_ tell me you forgot about this, _very_ important interview!" Her voice was now very nearly a snarl. Out of sight, Digs eyebrows flew up in surprise, while Oliver adopted a look of slight constipation.

"Unbelievable! _Un-freakin-believable_, Oliver what is it you hear when I speak? _Shtupn_! It's as if I speak in tongues! No, because if I was speaking in Russian or Mandarin we wouldn't be having this conversation. Seriously do I slip into dolphin squeaks or equine whinnies when I talk, and I just neglected to notice? _Well aroyszogn shmok_? How bout it Dig, do I suddenly become an incoherent imbecile at random intervals throughout the day?"

"Whoa!" Dig threw his free hand up in appeasement, gone was the look of amusement and in its place one of stunned confusion at the abrupt turn of events, and took a step back, as if trying to step out of the line of fire. Felicity always knew Diggle to be a smart man. "Leave me out of this. I'm just here to look pretty, take bullets, and drive the car. This is all on him."

Dig jabbed a finger in the other man's direction, unrepentantly throwing his boss under the buss. Oliver glowered at him, but Dig shook his head silently giving him a pointed look that said 'you fucked up, you fix it.'

"TWO_ WEEKS, Oliver!_ I have been reminding you for two weeks. And you _still _forget?" she thundered, smacking her hand heavily on the glass desktop. Her coffee cup rattled ominously as it shifted a few inches to the left with repercussion.

Suddenly sheepish, and slightly uncomfortable, Oliver scrubbed a hand through his short-cropped hair (strike that, extremely uncomfortable. He should be! The putz.)

Lunging to her feet, she stalked toward him, poking a perfectly manicured finger into his hard warm chest. _No!_ Felicity mentally scolded herself when the feel of his rippling muscles beneath the thin dress shirt caught her attention. _Bad, anger now lust later._ "This is the Daily Planet were talking about here Oliver. It's bigger than the _New York Times, _For Christ sake! This isn't some trashy gossip rag, do you think Whilsbee is going to cut your any slack for that charming 'Hi I'm Oliver Queen, CEO, Playboy, Billionaire' act? No, he'll crucify you for it. Which you would know if you read the notes I left on your desk. It took me _a month_ of e-mail tag with Perry White to get you this interview. So you march into that office and study up on the Applied Sciences Division to wow him with you dedication and knowledge, unless you want to give Isabel another point with the shareholders."

"But," Oliver began gazing back to her now flushed face, and narrowed eyes. It a fit of pique she childishly stomped her foot, the slim four inch stiletto landing to close to his foot for comfort. Oliver had been injured the pencil thin heels before, and it had been…unpleasant and an incident he was in no hurry to repeat. Therefore, for safety sake, he shifted back a step, and it had nothing to do with the fact he was now on the receiving end of her 'loud voice'.

"Uh-uh no buts Mister, I except yours moving through that door. I am fine, I appreciate the concern but I am just tired and now seething. So go or _so help me God_, I will donate your trust fund to charity. Go. _Go_!" Felicity stood from her chair and scowled jabbing a finger to the glass walls of the office.

"I guess I shouldn't ask for coffee then." He muttered under his breath.

Felicity, eyes still glaring daggers at him smiled with sardonic sweetness. "Oh you could ask, but you won't like where I pore it."

Dig guffawed, nearly choking on a mouthful of coffee, from his own cup, and nearly slopped the rest down his front. Dig always did like when her snarky side came out to play. Which was ironic really, since snark had once been her main form of communication. Years of suppressing her old life had taken its toll, but sometimes Chloe's biting humor reared its acerbic head in times of great irritation.

Like now.

Flashing her a look of supreme irritation he stalked through the glass doors like a chastised puppy. Rolling her eyes, she fell into her chair with a huff.

Still smirking slightly, Dig rested a hip on her desk and regarded her with a knowing look. "You need to talk, I'm here."

The simple and concise statement warmed her, and she gazed up at him through her lashes. "I know."

"Good, now drink your coffee. Since _someone_ broke the coffee pot I had to go all the way down to the cafeteria for this." He looked at her knowingly, and held up his mug as if his statement need proof drawing a laugh from her. John grinned, tapping a warm finger against the tip of her nose. From the corner of her eye she caught Oliver glowering at them through the glass partitions, and still miffed she gave him a cheeky wave. He muttered something under his breath, and turned his glare on notes, as if hoping his gaze would set them ablaze.

Rolling her eyes at his childishness she reached forward looping her fingers through the handle of her cup, she fell comfortably back in her chair inhaling the mouthwatering aroma. Taking a deep draught, she sighed in contentment, the tension bleeding from her muscles, turning them to butter. With a wink, John slid off her desk and was off to his post.

Felicity eyed the laptop in front of her warily. Truly, she didn't even want to comprehend just how many virus were infecting the hard drive, she especially didn't want to know from what site it came from, but she had promised. Depositing her cup on the desk, she cracked her knuckles and wiggled her fingers above the keys before setting to work.

Thirty minutes later, she eyed the desktop clock and frowned slightly. Whilsbee was late, not that she was about to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it was odd. Marcus had been an up and comer when she had been a summer intern at the Planet years ago. She had never met him, but she had heard of him and he was a stickler for punctuality. Then again, traffic around QC this time of the morning was a nightmare, a fact Marcus probably hadn't been aware of. Felicity shrugged slightly, and dove back into her work.

The elevator chimed, just as Felicity was bringing her mug to her lips, glancing around the screen toward the elevator bay her world screeched to a halt. All because of the man stumbling from the compartment, and greeting Dig kindly by the elevator. Her fingers went numb and as if in slow motion coffee sloshed over the rim as the ceramic whistled silently through the air on a crash course with the marble tile.

Her first instinct had been, run. Run and never look back. For so long that had been her default. Conceal. Protect. _Run._ But there was no escape. The stairwell was housed clear at the other end of the floor by the break room, the elevator bank laid just outside the main glass doors that opened into the spacious reception area that housed her desk. Both exits however would lead her right past the cause of her fight or flight response. Felicity was trapped. Fate had lead Clark Kent right to her doorstep. Maybe it was time. Time to stop running from the past. To entrust the shadows, scars, and secrets that had driven her away from home. Allow him to wrap her up in his strong arms and let the world melt away once more. Escape to a place where she was no long Chloe Sullivan and Felicity Smoak, but one woman who was torn between past and future. So, finally after so many years cloaked in shadow, cold and alone with her demons God granted her a warm flame.

And she stopped running.

"_Clark_." The strangled whisper had his head snapping toward her.

He wore glasses now, sliding low on the thin bridge of his nose.

Behind the lenses his soft baby blues widened, his jaw flapping open stupidly. If Felicity hadn't been in shock, she would have ached to tease him. The ceramic shattered at her feet, splashing luke warm coffee on her bare legs. She didn't notice.

"_Chlo_." He said her name with such reverence, that tears flooded her eyes. Felicity didn't remember getting up, or the ceramic crunching under foot as she moved forward in a haze of blue. She refused to blink, to look away from the boy-now man-that she had lost so long ago. Never heard the glass door open as Oliver's concerned voice echoed in the corridor. Or that she shrugged off his hand when he had grasped her elbow, trying to turn her to face him, and continued on her path.

"God Chlo."

The tears fell, just as large arms banded tightly around her waist lifting her up of her feet. Her nose was assaulted by the familiar scent of hay, a hint of flannel, but sandalwood had replaced the scent of worn leather. Felicity missed it. Through tear-clouded eyes, she saw Dig gazing at her in concern, but she beamed at him. Laughing through her tears, heedless of the fact coffee was dripping from the backs of her three hundred dollar pumps.

Felicity didn't care, because in the moment she felt the two parts of her meld. She was Felicity Smoak and Chloe Sullivan, and now she had her Clark Kent back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

A low growl rumbled in Oliver's chest as he observed the scene through narrowed eyes, fist clenched at his sides. Held aloft Felicity's feet were level with the man's knees seemingly oblivious to the fact that one of her spiked black pumps had fallen off her foot while the other dangled precariously from her toes, content to bury her face into the stranger's neck. The man, was tall well over six-foot-three (if Oliver was to hazard guess) dressed in neatly pressed suit beneath a tan trench coat, clipped to the pocket was the generic visitor's tag (from the reception desk that every visitor received union sign in to pass through security) and a laminated ID bearing the familiar golden globe of the Daily Planet. Shuffling closer, for a better look he paused as Felicity released laugh through her tears. Oliver shifted uncomfortably, his brows scrunching down in slightly hurt confusion. Sure, he had heard her laugh before during late nights in the foundry as she and Dig teased and bickered over a bag of Belly Busters. He had even managed to make her laugh once or twice (on the few occasions Felicity had been able to coax him off the salmon ladder to join them). Those late nights of bickering (Oliver mostly observed lips giving way to a slight smile. Felicity usually fist-pumped in victory the few times she caught him, sharing a pleased look of victory with Dig) and Felicity's bright and happy laughter had been one of the few things he truly missed upon his return to the island. This laugh however was different. Oliver frowned slightly; he had never heard his Girl Wednesday laugh like that before. So blissful and carefree, it strangely hurt him that this stranger could bring her so much joy by his mere presence.

A man she had never mentioned to him. Granted Felicity had never treated either of them like her girlfriends, a fact he was immensely great full for, but he had thought she would feel secure enough to talk about someone so important to her. Even just a passing reference. Not that Felicity talked much about herself, or her life outside of Verdant and QC in general, but he thought…well he wasn't really sure what he thought. Maybe that they were closer than this. Felicity knew his secret late night activities, yet it was becoming abundantly clear that she had never reciprocated that level of trust in him. It stung, more than Oliver would have expected.

Movement behind the tender reunion drew his gaze; Dig was apparently just as in the dark as he was, if his look of surprised confusion was anything to go by. Childishly it soothed his injured feelings. The unknown man spun her once…twice in a circle, her long legs fanning out behind her, her remaking shoe flying off and across the office. She gave a happy squeal and tightened her hold around his neck, perfectly manicured nails of her right hand buried in the man dark hair, while her left fisted the shoulder of his coat. Blue eyes closed behind fogged lenses, tears still trickling out from beneath her lids, her face alight happiness. Oliver licked his lips and shifted his eyes away, feeling as if he were intruding on an intimate moment.

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he turned his eyes out the shimmering floor to ceiling wall of glass overlooking the gleaming city skyline. Years on the island had honed his senses, and his sharp ears picked up the light whisper of Felicity's voice. Even with sharp ears, Oliver could only make out to breathless word, 'missed…you.'

Against his better judgment, his eyes once again fell to the pair reenacting a missing scene from The Notebook (and it pained him tremendously that he was even able to make the comparison).

The man hummed turning his face into her blonde ponytail, and pressing his lips to the crown of her head and hitched her higher up his body, forcing her to relinquish her grip on his coat, until her elbows were digging into his shoulders. Oliver scowled and fisted his hands in his pockets to forestall doing something he'd regret. He had already been on the receiving end of her ire today, and he was in no hurry to endure it again. Regardless of his wounded feelings. Blue eyes flickered and fell once more to the laminated ID, clipped to an unbuttoned pocket. Closer now he could make out the neatly typed name beneath the photo, Clark Kent: Reporter. Oliver had heard the name before; Walter had mentioned it once at one of their rare uninterrupted family dinners. If he remembered correctly, Kent was partnered up with Lois Lane (both of whom had flown out to Starling to interview Walter after he had successfully acquired Avery Technologies, right out from under Luthor Corp). Walter had been so impressed he had even invited him back to the manor for dinner. His mother Moria Queen, a bane to the existence of all journalists, had nothing but good things to say about the team. Finding Miss. Lane's brand of jaded sarcasm oddly humorous and charming and Kent's impeccable manners (he had even brought flowers for the two Queen woman as a thank you for allowing them to intrude on their family dinner) and country boy charm refreshing. Oliver had been quite impressed, not many people received Moria Queen's seal of approval, let alone her respect, after only one meeting. According to Tommy, Thea (only fifteen at the time, and wasn't an easy sell herself,) apparently had been quite taken with the shy bumbling Kent, waxing poetic about him when Tommy had arrived at the manor the next day for their weekly ice cream date. Oliver had thought it cute and had teased his younger sister mercilessly over her ill-fated crush. (Which had quickly turned to disgust as Thea gave a dreamy sigh as she remembered the encounter. Telling him-in great detail- of the beautiful bouquet of pink peonies and blue hydrangea he had given her, as well as waxing poetic about eyes that would "Make Ryan Gossling weep with envy,")

Thea quickly sucked the fun out of his brotherly teasing.

"You know," she remarked suddenly, eyeing him mischievously, looking so much like the playful twelve year old he remembered. "Walter's going out to Metropolis next month; I just might have to tag along. They have phenomenal shopping and if I'm in town, it's only polite to drop by the Planet. Say hello catch up, maybe do a little lunch. I hear Table Salt just opened a restaurant in Luthor Plaza. If somewhere down the road it ends in a passionate love affair, well so much the better!" She grinned wickedly, when he pulled a face. The thought made his skin crawl, and despite his best efforts, he'd shiver in disgust. Thea cackled and punched the air in victory. Making him fondly recall the days when boys still had cooties. Now faced with the man in question clutching his IT girl as if he was terrified if he were to loosen his grip she would turn into sand and slip through his fingertips, Oliver was no longer amused nor impressed.

Accord to the notes Felicity had left him Whilsbee was a man in his early forties that was very sensitive about his receding hairline (seriously Oliver Don't state at it!) That she had written than in bright pink highlighter in all caps as if he were some kind of moron. Sure, he had that one tiny incident with Mrs. Milton-the gossip columnist from The Starling Ledger-when he asked if she shouldn't already be on maternity leave. Felicity had just been dropping of some bagels, and had looked at him horror struck eyes bulging behind her glasses. So maybe that note was justified. Mrs. Martin apparently had a glandular disorder and was decidedly not pregnant. The older woman had left in a huff and when she'd regained her bearings Felicity had taken to beating over the head with a fistful of contracts. The article, addressing petty gossip or not, had painted him in a decidedly unflattering light. Felicity had been incredibly unsympathetic, subjecting him to a twenty minuet rant that just because a woman wasn't a size zero did not make her pregnant. Oliver had been irritated as he really hadn't meant to be insulting, (he wasn't that vain) but rather he was worried about the woman turning his office floor into an amniotic slip-and-slide.

However, Felicity had said they were waiting on a Marcus-do-not-stare-at-my-bald-spot- Whilsbee not Clark –Dreamy-eyes- Kent. Apparently, somewhere from Starling to Metropolis they had gotten their wires crossed, not that Felicity looked particularly upset by the turn of events.

Having had his fill of feeling like a voyeur in his own office, Oliver pointedly cleared his throat. He was ignored, scowling darkly he crossed his arms over his chest less he give into the urge to physically separate the two. Over Kent's shoulder caught his eye and gave a firm shake of his head that very clearly stated 'Don' . .It.' Another growl rumbled in his chest, like an angry tiger. Oliver forced himself to suck in a breath trying his best to let it sooth the snarling guard dog inside him. It didn't help. In the past year Oliver had become protective of not only his family but also the two friends, that knew, and saw, the real him. After Tommy. Tommy. He flinched internally as he recalled his best friend. Dimly he wondered if he would ever be able to recall his childhood friend, or see Laurel, without the searing pain of loss and guilt. Oliver doubted he would. He failed them. He deserved the pain.

After Tommy and his second homecoming from Lian Yu, he had tried to be better; a better man, friend, son, and brother. For Tommy, Shado, Sara, and Slade; and the countless others he had failed. Oliver had spent much of his time on the island worrying over how those he left were coping, especially his emotionally scarred sister and his bright effervescent friend. Felicity was a beckon of light in the darkness. The guiding light that chased away the shadows of her two damaged friends. She never pressed, never asked about his scars or the demons of his past. Somehow, Felicity understood. Instead of questions and ultimatums, it was empathic looks of understanding, a gentle touch, and soothing smile.

All of which made Oliver want to protect her. Wrap her in cotton wool and tuck her safely away. A fact he knew she would not be appreciative of. Dig was much the same stepping effortlessly into the role of big brother, a silent-glaring- deterrent (with arms the size of bowling balls) to all that thought to upset her. It was Dig, who first brought his attention to the rumors swirling over a lowly IT girl's sudden promotion to that of Executive Assistant. None of them flattering. Oliver had no doubt she knew, as Dig reported when he had gone down to help her clean out her desk in IT, her coworkers had suddenly gone silent, when Felicity stopped in the break room to grab her favorite coffee mug. The women had sneered at her and the men had leered, until John had loudly cleared his throat making his presence known. Still Felicity had never said a word to her about her troubles, and besides her absolute refusal to fetch him coffee, had done the job he'd asked of her. Even bearing Isabel Rochev's barbed comments.

Speaking of Miss. Rochev happened upon the display she would make a federal case out of it, and with Oliver's patience wearing thin where she was concerned he just might give into desire and pitch her off the helipad.

"Miss. Smoak" He called loudly, fighting to keep his tone neutral. She jumped slightly; turning her head from Kent's neck, leaving a smear of bright coral lipstick on the white starched collar-Oliver stifled a huff of annoyance (barely) - to regard him over the tops of her fogged lenses. Felicity grumbled slightly a flush crawling up her neck. Pushing back a bit, she patted Clark's shoulders in a silent order to put her down. He did so with a look of great reluctance. Feet finally back on the floor; Felicity accepted the shoe John had retrieved with a slightly embarrassed smile. Latching on to Kent's bicep to keep her balance as she skimmed her feet back into her heels. Only releasing his arm once she was properly balanced but Clark's hand hovered just shy of the small of her back, ready to steady her if she teetered on the too tall heels.

Smoothing her skirt, Felicity meet his gaze and smiled sheepishly, mopping at her wet cheeks with her palms, cringing at the dark streaks of mascara stained her skin. As if he had done it a million times before, Kent reach forward wiping the dark tracks of dark makeup from her fair skin, Felicity smiled gratefully at the gesture. Clearing his throat loudly, Oliver arched a bushy brow, and looked pointedly at the large beaming man standing in his reception area.

"Oh! Right sorry, that was totally rude. Oliver Queen, this is Clark Kent an old friend." Felicity introduced them easily, but Oliver caught the silent look she shot her friend. Her blues eyes sparking with shadows he knew all too well.

Fear.

Pain.

Loss.

The emotions were saw raw in those bright eyes, it seemed almost alien, and it nearly knocked the oxygen from his lungs. Oliver kept the facade of open politeness in place, despite the dread slithering into his belly and curling up for a long winters nap. Then he blinked and it was gone, like a hurricane moving out to sea. Oliver knew from experience that sometimes that aftermath was far more dangerous than the natural disaster that preceded it.

The very notion that someone had damaged Felicity in such a way sent a tidal wave of red-hot fury, zinging through his blood. He wanted to hunt them down and riddle them with arrows, make them suffer for ever having hurt someone as innocent and remarkable as Felicity Smoak.

But this was neither the time nor the place.

Felicity had never pushed him, and suddenly it was clear why.

She too understood the need for secrets. That some horrors were to be left unspoken.

Clark tensed slightly, his happy expression flickering slightly before he nodded. Felicity's eyes flickered to him, regarding him suspiciously. Her small shoulders tensed, her congenial smile wavered the corner of her lips wobbling slightly.

The façade was fracturing, and Oliver couldn't be the reason it crumbled. Felicity had asked nothing of him. Nothing of the island or his scars. She respected his distance, waiting and allowing him to come to her. If he ever did.

He owed her, everything.

He would back off.

He would give her time.

For now.

But someday soon, whoever had hurt her would pay.

Dearly.

And maybe a little blood.

Clearing her throat, she threw her shoulders back and barreled on. "Mr. Diggle, head of Mr. Queen's security." She gestured to the other man, before clasping her hands in front of her stomach and bouncing nervously on her toes. Forcing himself to relax, Oliver rolled his eyes good naturedly, and stepped forward smoothly extending his hand in greeting.

Kent strode forward to meet him, grasping his offered hand and giving it a firm shake. The besotted grin he had worn while gazing at Felicity smoothed into one of polite professionalism.

"Mr. Queen," the reporter greeted before turning toward Diggle and offering his hand to him as well. Pleasantly surprised, as he was usually viewed as furniture by all who enter the executive level, Diggle hesitated a moment before shaking the younger man's hand. "Mr. Diggle," Kent nodded in greeting, turning back to face the billionaire after Mr. Diggle nodded in greeting. "I apologies for keeping you waiting. There was ah…incident at the bank down the street. I got caught up."

Oliver furrowed his brow, when out of the corner of his eye he saw Felicity glance at Clark meaningfully the corner of her lips ticking up in a knowing smile. Having regained her equilibrium, it was as if her slight falter had never happened. When she noticed his scrutiny, she ducked her head uneasily rubbing the back of her neck, only then taking notice of her stained suede shoes.

"Of course, no harm done. However I was under the impression it would be Mr. Whilsbee conducting the interview." Oliver remarked cocking his head, silently seeking an explanation. Felicity stopped frowning at her shoes, and lifted her head interested in the answer.

Clark coughed anxiously, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "He was. But Typhoid Lois infected half the sixtieth floor with the flu. Mark was her latest victim. Only Cat, Perry, and I were left standing."

Oliver glowered darkly, his back snapping ramrod straight.

Clark regarded him with knowing sympathy.

Felicity sniffed, turning her nose up, and crossing her arms over her chest, scowling darkly into space.

Anyone with enough clout to grace the pages of a gossip rag new the name Cat Grant. As venomous, as she was beautiful there was no level she would not stoop when sniffing out juicy gossip. After the Undertaking, Cat had taken glee in ripping his family to shreds for the entertainment of her readers. When he had escaped to the island, in search of solitude, Cat had hounded Thea ruthlessly. Dogging her every step. When his sister had spurned the woman's request for an exclusive, she had turned her poisonous pen on a teenage girl, without sympathy.

Cramming his large hands into the pockets of his black slacks, Clark continued. "Lois wanted to come, even booked a ticket but Perry wanted to keep her contained to Metropolis. Said Starling already had one disaster, the last thing you needed was Pandemic Lane hovering off the coast. And with the extenuating circumstances being what they are," Kent's affable demeanor darkened, shoulders squaring, jaw clenched he no longer resembled the awkward reporter of moments ago. Felicity cleared her throat slightly, diverting Oliver's attention and when he turned, back Kent was smiling pleasantly. A voice that sounded in the back of his mind, soft, sure, and clear.

Shado

After his failure had resulted in her murder, she had become the voice of his conscience. Encouraging when he faltered and guiding him to be a man, she would have been proud of. Oliver hadn't heard that little voice since she had returned from purgatory with Felicity and Diggle. Now she was back, whispering softly in his ear that Clark Kent was more than he appeared. Oliver could spot a man that carried secrets and Kent had his fair share. A communicative look passed between EA and reporter, the words unnecessary. A secret between allies. A promise unspoken. Once upon a time, Oliver had no doubt Felicity and Clark had been more than just friends. They too had been partners. They were the key to each other's past, to every secret shared before life, distance and circumstance had separated them.

The monster in his chest growled, pacing its cage.

"He thought it best to me, along with his apologies. And promise that unlike Tess Mercer the Planet will no longer condone attacking little girls, under his watch. And Mr. White will be printing a retraction and apology in tomorrow's morning edition."

Oliver nodded curtly, in acceptance.

"Lois was supposed to send an email about the change in plans," Clark gave a sigh of exasperation, rubbing tiredly at his face. "sorry, she's been downing NyQuil shots, for the past week. And is more than likely passed out and drooling on her keyboard. Again. We could always reschedule if you'd rather wait for Mr. Whilsbee."

Oliver hummed before shaking his head. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Kent. Walter Steele, not to mention my mother and sister speak well of you. "

Kent reddened.

Oliver clapped his hands together in feigned enthusiasm. "Shall we move this into my office?"

…..

Inside her townhouse the living room light burned bright, warm, and welcoming through the bay window. As much as Felicity loved the modest town-home it still didn't radiate the all encompassing feeling of warmth of home like the Kent's farmhouse had. But it made her feel safe and most importantly normal. Just another adult living a board life of work and home. If you left out the vigilantism but that was beside the point. Somewhere along the line it had become the closest approximation of home that she had ever found outside of Smallville or Metropolis.

The shadows of twilight had just begun its decent upon Starling City, the bright lights of the skyline flickered to life. It had taken longer than she expected to escape QC, after the interview Isabel had stalked past her desk right into Oliver's office. Apparently Isabel had taken exception to him, giving an interview without her knowledge. That had gone over like a lead ballon. Even Oliver's playboy CEO had issue with taking orders. So she hadn't been surprised when an hour later Isabel had stalked I past her desk, without her usual parting scathing insult.

It was the cherry on top of another hateful sundae as EA.

After Oliver's interview was in the books, she had grabbed Clark and led him out of earshot.

All the while acutely aware of Oliver's eyes following her every step. With a promise to explain later, desperate to avoid the puppy dog eyes of a pleading Clark, she had told him her address, alarm code, and slipped him her key. Promising she would be there a soon as she could.

After Clark had bussed her cheek and hugged her tightly, he slipped into the elevator and as the doors rolled, closed John appeared at her shoulder, arms crossed casually across his chest.

"There has got to be one hell of a story there." Dig remarked teasingly.

Oh if you only knew. Felicity stifled a grin at the thought.

Her lips tipped up at the corner. "Not much of one. Just you average girl meets boy."

John eyed her doubtfully. "Yeah I somehow doubt that."

Felicity laughed, eyes shining impishly. "That's because you're a smart man, John Diggle."

"So spill girl, college fling?"

Felicity blushed, and stammered flustered. "No-no-uh-uh. No there was never anything more than friendship between us."

Dig's eyebrows twitched upward in disbelief. "I don't know, I was never that happy to see Oliver."

Felicity rolled her eyes, turning to face the large wall of muscle, that was her friend. "Ha-ha. No really, there was never anything romantic between Clark and I."

Lips pursed out, he nodded his head. "Hmmm…but you wanted there to be."

She smiled ruefully, visions of Clark and Lana coming unbidden to mind. "Like I said, smart man."

"So who is Chlo?" He questioned evenly. His tone calm and serene as if he had just asked about the weather and not her former identity.

Her head whipped to the side so quickly, her neck popped loudly and her ponytail smacked her in the mouth, pasting curls to her lipstick.

She gulped, her throat muscles quivering.

He noticed, she knew he did.

Sometimes John was too perceptive for his own good.

Felicity couldn't risk that.

Too much had already been lost.

Too much blood spilt and lives taken.

She wouldn't let Dig, Oliver, or Clark become the next casualty.

"It's what Clark's always called me." She said finally, crossing her arms across her chest, each hand grasping a wrist, squeezing tightly-she needed a tether to keep her mind on track. Too much rode on her lies, protected too many people; she could not falter. Not now.

Not ever.

Picking nonexistent lint of her blouse, she cleared her throat and gave what she hoped was a careless shrug. "When we first met he confused me with my roommate. Out of spite and to needle me, because apparently it tickles him, he refused call me anything but."

John gazed at her solemnly. "Okay, I was just wondering. Had to make sure you weren't leading a double…triple, come to think of it, life. Make sure there's no husband or kids waiting for you to come home from a business trip."

The light teasing, hit a bit too close to home. And Felicity had a chilling feeling, Dig knew it too.

"Nope, no kids or husband unless you count my pillow. I call him Channing; he's quite the cuddlier but not much of a conversationalist. But I've always liked the strong, silent types, so I'm not too choosy."

Turning his head, dig looked pointedly toward the office, and grinning "Clearly."

Felicity gaped, he mouth flapping open. "That's not what I…"

Dig grinned at her knowingly.

It made her want to smack him.

If she had a chance of causing any physical damage…hell, she would settle for discomfort, beggars couldn't be choosy after all, she would have.

"Oh never mind." She muttered, shuffling off to her desk red faced.

When she fell into her desk chair, she looked back over toward the former solider, expecting to find him still grinning at her expense. He wasn't. His lips were pursed into a worried frown, but it was his eyes that stopped her short. It was his 'I'm here when you need me' look. He knew or at least suspected something was off.

She was woefully out of practice.

Since arriving in Starling, Felicity had known no one and no one had known her. She was hundreds of miles from Smallville, from anyone that knew her. Even if there was, Lex had made sure no one would recognize her. In the months, she had been his prisoner she had been transformed. At least that was what he had said, when she awoke to a world of pain and thick white bandages wound around her face.

After the bruising and the swelling had faded one of the nurses, had come in with a small mirror and superior expression. As if Felicity should have, felt blessed her captors had taken time out of their busy schedule of using them as lab rats to show her just how much of her face they had butchered.

The girl in the mirror wasn't Chloe Sullivan.

Her hair had grown out, as had her dark roots, of her simple bob and laid in matted curls between her shoulder blades. The slim slightly curved nose she had inherited from Grammy Lane was gone, shaved, hammered, and carved into an aesthetically appealing button nose. Her lips, which had always been on the thinner side, were now something a super model would envy, full and pouty. The signature Lane cheekbones, the only feature she shared with both of her cousins, had been contoured and whittled away. Even the color of her eyes hadn't been spared. Gone was mysterious hazel and in its place a brilliant sea blue. Another casualty of the experiments, or so the nurse had explained.

The way she said it, the older woman had thought it an improvement.

She hadn't agreed.

The reflection of a young innocent looking woman was a stranger.

She doubted her own father would recognize her.

Doctor Frankenstein had stopped by later, and leered at her with pure lust. His eyes felt like crawling bugs, as they tracked down her body, before reaching out to smooth up her calf. "I made the ugly duckling a swan. One day you'll thank me."

Rage had blazed through her, and with one harsh jerk the restraint holding her leg snapped. The bale heel of her foot had kicked high driving, so forcefully, into the man's nose her ankle cracked. His nose shattered.

Lex may have erased Chloe Sullivan, from her features, but he would never completely destroy her. All through her captivity, she had bit, spat, kicked, and cursed at them. Every day they tried to break her, and every day she survived.

And with every breath, she began to plan their downfall.

And it would be spectacular.

Because they had taken away her life as Chloe, she had been reborn.

She was Felicity Smoak and she was a phoenix.

Emerging from the ashes, a new woman; bruised, bloody, and scarred.

A warrior.

And Lex Luthor's worst nightmare.

She would never forget.

Never forgive.

But she would destroy him.

One day.

Felicity would piece by piece reduce his world to ashes and dust.

Just like, he had done to her.

Sadly, today was not that day.

And until then the fear would linger.

Every shadow would be him.

Haunting her.

Searching for her.

But she would face it, with fear in her heart and a poisonous barb on her lips.

Felicity would survive.

If only to spite Luthor.

Still fraught the nervous energy, she valiantly fought the urge to gnaw at her thumbnail, (knowing if she did, Dig and Oliver's suspicions would only grow) and instead choosing to wade into her full inbox. Deleting copious amounts of spam, penile enlargement pills anyone, no? Eh… whatever no biggie, and replying to seemingly endless request for meetings, television appearances, and even one from ABC offering to make Oliver the next Bachelor: (The Who wants to Marry a Vigilante Edition, that Felicity may have sent in an application for).

Then she saw it.

Lois.

The time stamp declared it had arrived forty minutes ago. Apparently, Lois had awoken from her coma and had sent the email. Late, but that was Lois Lane. She couldn't remember a time Lois was on time for anything, why would seven years make any difference.

Her mouse hovered over the link, as she silently debated whether she should just delete it. In the end she hadn't been forced to decide, as Oliver strode from his office and calling a close to the day. Felicity had tried to linger, claiming she had to tend to a few things, but Oliver had been insistent.

The elevator ride to the parking garage had been a new special kind of hell. Awkward small talk about Clark was something she so didn't need right now. Bad enough she had to go home and break the heart of a man she had loved for half her life. She didn't need the painful reminder. When they reached level she had parked her mini she had fled as soon as the doors began to open. Calling over her shoulder that she would see them at the foundry in a few hours.

Felicity had ignored Oliver calling after her, as she slipped into her car.

Now here she was.

The familiar brick home she had fallen in love with.

Was now the place she would finally close Clark Kent's chapter in her life.


End file.
